


Speak My Language

by MLMDarkFiction



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader is Deputy, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Trans Character, Transman Reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 02:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18129680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MLMDarkFiction/pseuds/MLMDarkFiction
Summary: On days like today when John comes home obviously upset, but unable to put his feelings into words, he decides to show you how he feels via his actions alone.





	Speak My Language

Life is full of hardships, yours has been no exception to this. In fact you had moved to Hope County in hopes of escaping some of that very hardship. Little did you know it was going to turn out being the best, and worst thing you had ever done. 

 

The last thing you had wanted was to have your life thrown upside down by cults, and resistances, and all other manner of bullshit that was way above your pay grade as a simple deputy. 

 

But things were different now. You’d made your choice. No longer a deputy, no longer a member of the resistance, no longer a target of Eden’s Gate and the rest of Joseph’s crazy highwaymen. You’d chosen John. 

 

At the end of the day, all you really wanted, was a peaceful life, and to be loved. John offered both of those things, and had yet to stop providing you with them. 

  
Even if you weren’t allowed to leave the ranch. It was for your own protection after all. Time and time again the two of you have spoken about it, and time and time again the discussion only ended with putting John in a foul mood. If you left the ranch, if the resistance found you, they would hurt you. 

 

They would hurt you to hurt him. 

 

They would hurt you to repay the hurt you gave when you left. 

 

John just doesn’t want you to get hurt. 

 

Still with the way things are now, there’s no way you can help John until he gets home. You do your best to make sure things are good for him. You cook, you clean, and you take care of him. 

 

No matter how much you do though, there are still going to be days like today, when John comes home from being out, doing who knows what, you certainly don’t want to know, and is upset. You can tell.

 

He always greets you when he comes home, but not today. No he enters the ranch with a layer of tension following behind him, the door slamming shut in his stead. Dinner goes ignored. John making his way past you silently and up the stairs to your shared bedroom, and like the devoted partner you are you follow him, calling softly. 

 

“John?”

 

He doesn’t answer you. 

 

You hate when things get like this. When you don’t know what’s wrong because he simply won’t speak to you. He doesn’t want you to stress. He doesn’t want you to know of his shortcomings. He should be able to handle this, handle everything. He should be able to provide and protect you from the world outside. 

 

On days like this he feels like a failure. 

 

John is changing, unbuttoning his shirt slowly to change into something cleaner, less dirtied and blood stained. Your imagination runs with the possibilities of what he’d been through today, and your stomach twists. 

 

“John?...”

 

Finally he acknowledges you, turning as he drops the offending fabric still covering his torso, yet now unbuttoned and approaches you. He’s silent, focused, eyes full of some emotion you struggle to comprehend, and before you question him once more he pulls you close to him. His chin rests atop your head, and although you’re concerned you stay quiet, returning the embrace. John needs this. So you let him have it.

 

The two of you stand in your bedroom, embracing in silence, until John finally breaks the hold. 

 

“I love you.”

 

His fingers lace with your own, before gently pulling your knuckles to his lips to place a kiss upon the skin. 

 

“I love you too.”

 

Your words do little to soothe him. His shoulders don’t fall, the tension in his muscles doesn’t relax, but he smiles. 

  
More than anything you want to ask him what happened, but you doubt asking him would do anything but provide more fuel to the fire that was his anxiety. 

 

“I love you,”

 

You repeat back for a second time before pressing your lips to his own. He returns it like a desperate, dying man, like it’s the last time he’ll ever kiss you. It’s something about his passion, the way he acts as if he’ll never see you again every time you part and the shock and awe when you’re still by his side is one of the things that made you fall for him. 

 

To your surprise, John’s the one who ends the kiss, gently moving you so your knees hit the back of your shared bed, and causing you to collapse on it. 

“You always take such good care of me ____, let me take care of you for once, alright?”

 

All you can do is nod, allowing for the heat to rise in your cheeks. For all you do for John, it may be nice to get a bit of a ‘reward’ for your efforts, but you also know it’s unhealthy in a way. John is deflecting what’s really bothering him to focus on pleasuring you both. He uses sex to cope. He uses sex to say the things he can’t bring himself to say with words. The ‘LUST’ tattooed on the skin of his thigh reveals this. 

 

But you can’t say no to John when he’s like this, not when he begs with a broken, soft, 

“Please,” 

 

It hits butterflies in the pit of your stomach, it causes the heat in your face to grow, and your thighs to rub together in anticipation of what’s to come. 

 

If John won’t vent his feelings to you through words then you’ll speak his language. You’ll help him get all his worries and frustrations out somehow. You’ll use your body to show him how much you love him as he does the same for you. 

 

Your nod of consent is all it takes for John to pounce on you like a starving animal, pinning you to the bed, arms on either side of your head as he begins to trail kisses down your jaw and neck, beard tickling you softly as he goes. 

 

He’s already hard, you can feel him against the skin of your thighs, and the soft laugh of surprise that leaves you from both it and the tickling sensation of his facial hair against your skin is taken as a challenge. John flashes a dangerous look your way before smirking, his soft kisses turning into teasing bites, and bites into powerful sucks at the unmarred, all with the intention of leaving dark marks to show the world who it was you belonged to. 

 

He momentarily pulls his lips away from your skin to make quick work of your shirt, but he’s incredibly impatient, and you hear a telltale rip of fabric from his inability to wait. 

 

“John,” You whine out in a disapproving manner, but the more you try the harder you find it to actually scold him with your clothed hips bucking up into his own needingly. 

 

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

Leaning up you allow him to remove the now ripped, offending fabric away revealing your bare chest too him. You aren’t embarrassed. There’s nothing about you John hasn’t seen at one time or another, everything from your top surgery scars, to the mark of ‘WRATH’ he’d given you himself. His fingers ghost of the scars, and are then replaced by soft kisses which make you squirm.

 

“You’re perfect, you know?”

Under his gaze you flush, looking away from the intimate display. 

 

You’ve explained to him before, he knows, he understands, knows that the scars are a happy thing. That you feel much better about yourself because of them, but that doesn’t stop him from kissing them every time you’re shirtless. 

  
  


“Look at me,” 

 

John commands softly when he realizes that you’re no longer meeting his gaze, and despite yourself, you do as you’re told, an embarrassed whine leaving your throat. John’s own face is flush. 

 

“I love you,”

 

“I love you too John.”

 

“Say it again,”

 

Why John gets like this sometimes, you don’t know. It must have something to do with his past. Some deep embedded fear in him that you could never love him, at least not as much as he loves you, so that he has to show you, time and time again just how much he’s capable of loving you. 

 

His fingers ghost down your chest and sides, he enjoys watching you squirm as you mumble out another soft ‘I love you’. It doesn’t take him long to get up the moment to actually place his hands in your pants, past your boxers, to rub at your previously clothed sex. 

 

John physically moans into your ear when he feels how wet you are already. You’re ready, you’ve been ready, but John decides that you’re not. He decides that he needs to play with you, to tease you. It happens simultaneously. He presses a finger knuckle deep inside you, while going to nuzzle against your neck. The scratching of his beard causes you to gently arch your back, leaning further into his hand. He’s smirking, you can feel it against your skin. His teasing doesn’t relent, infact, as you squirm to try and buck more against his hand he removes the finger from inside you, smirk only growing as you give a frustrated groan of disapproval. 

 

“Patience, my dear.”

 

“Patience is not my strong suit.”

 

Instead of responding to your attempts at teasing he simply goes to rubbing your clit instead, quick fluid motions that have you arching against him once more. You’re close to cumming on his fingers teasing your clit alone when he stops touching you entirely, taking his soaked hand from your pants, and sticking two fingers into his mouth licking your juices off of them. He makes a show of it too, making sure you watch as his tongue slides between the digits until the only liquid left is his own saliva. 

 

Tired of his teasing you go to take your own pants off, after all you’d already been so close, and he hadn’t even exposed you to himself, or taken off your underwear, but the moment you go to tug down your pants your hands are captured by one of his own and he uses it to pin yours back. 

 

Before you can ask he kisses you once more, it’s slow and deep, and you can taste your own arousal on his tongue. When he pulls away he doesn’t release your hands, no, instead he simply pulls down your pants himself, and throws them across the room. 

 

Despite yourself you can’t help but give him a pointed look, after all, it’s likely you’ll be the one to clean up later. With one hand still pinning yours and yourself to the bed, his other once again trails inside of your boxers. You’re not able to see what exactly it is he’s doing, and your inner walls twitch with anticipation, after all you’d been so close to cumming before the sudden and abrupt stop. 

 

This time, John is slow. He rubs your clit in slow and sensual circles, it’s romantic, or at least, it would be if he wasn’t doing it to torture you. He keeps his pace slow and steady, taking the ruined almost-orgasm you had before, and doing his best to slowly get you back up to that peak once again. No matter how many breathy have begs you give, or how many times you buck against his hand trying to urge him to go faster, or to put a finger in you, anything besides continuing his monotonously slow circular motions he doesn’t listen. And eventually, your body grows used to it, adapts to his teasing, and uses it to climb that peak once more. You can practically taste your release, toes curling into the silk sheets, and then,

 

And then John stops again. There’s no way to contain the disappointed whine, or the way your body falls back into the sheets with a flop, your mouth open in a mix between a moan of dismay and heavy panting. 

 

“Do you want to cum?” 

 

All you manage is to give him a weak glare, chest still heaving softly. He knows the answer, he just wants to bring home your humiliation, your desire, and how much you need him. 

 

“If you want to cum, just say so,” He leans close to you, lips inches from your own. “I’ll let you.”

 

John kisses you, one hand gently rubbing circles into your hip, attempting to sooth your hypersensitive body, and only making your desire worse. When he pulls away from the kiss you all but beg him to let you cum, and finally he seems to show you some form of mercy, hand dipping beneath your pantline, finally giving you more than the teasing of your clit. Filling you with two fingers and thrusting inside of you until he finds the spot that makes you see stars, and continuing to thrust there until you tense around him, squeezing his fingers for everything they’re worth as you ride out the much anticipated release. 

 

This time he makes much less of a show of removing his fingers from your wetness, but he still takes the time to smear your own juices across your lips, allowing you to taste yourself, before he takes control, kissing you, and licking your essence away. 

 

You’re still recovering post orgasmic bliss when you hear John moving away from you, the telltale sounds of a zipper, followed by the piling of his clothes on the ground. John is far from finished. He’s insatiable at the best of times, but especially now when he wants nothing more than to show you how capable he is of making you cum, and need him. Unconsciously you throb, thighs rubbing together as you imagine how truly tired and over stimulated you will be by the time John’s satisfied. It’s something you dread, but also look forward to. Without waiting for John’s permission you finally strip of your last remaining clothing, begrudgingly tossing the damp, sticky fabric of your jeans and boxers to the corner of your room. A slight chill as the bedroom air hits your warm and sensitive slit. 

 

John’s eyeing you like a predator from the edge of the bed, one hand resting on his hip, the other giving a slow stroke to his cock. He looks painfully hard, his tip swollen, and red, you can see the precum gathering from here. 

 

John’s never been the type to go for multiple rounds before calling quits, and although you’d like to return the favor of teasing, and making him cum in return, you’re almost positive if you tried he’d deny you. 

 

So instead you do the next best thing, laying back against the blankets, spreading your legs, and using a single finger to make a ‘come hither’ motion for John. He wastes no time following your command, positioning himself against your entrance, running the tip along your slit to provide more lube, even though he already seen to the fact you were more than prepared for him. 

 

To tease him back, to get some form of slight revenge, and to also just provide much needed friction you hands find purchase on his shoulders, and you buck against him. Not enough to shealth himself fully inside you, but the tip is in, and more importantly the moan of a curse that leaves John’s lips is enough of a reward alone. 

 

You buck your hips again, taking control even from your position beneath him, and John moans again as he fully enters you. There’s something intoxicating about this. John Seed an incredibly capable and controlling man, coming undone beneath your fingers and administration. 

 

“L-Let me-”

 

But you don’t let John take the control back. Your lips press against his own as force the two of you to change positions, so that you’re the one on top, the one in control.

 

He’s already loved you, teased you, made you cum. It was only fair that you return the favor. That you made him feel loved in return. 

 

Sloppy thrusts, the sound of skin on skin, accompanied by the moaning of you both, You’re slow, hips moving in shuddering strokes, still feeling over stimulated from before. Moans are muffled by John’s neck as you do your best to mark him yourself, leaving hickeys you know he wouldn’t be able to hide in the morning. Leaving hickeys you know he wouldn’t try to hide in the morning. 

 

As quickly as you had gained dominance, you lost it, a quick buck of John’s own hips was enough to send you over the edge once again, your second orgasm of the night, your walls milking John’s cock for everything he has. He flips you then, pinning you to the bed, one hand moving to rub at your hardened clit while continuing to thrust into you, enjoying the way you mewl and squirm against him. 

  
“You feel so good…” He groans into your ear, pausing only briefly to move and bite into the flesh of your neck. “Always so good for me, my deputy.”

 

The pleasures so intense you miss the rest of John’s sweet nothings, only realizing he’s stopped as you feel the tell tale signs of his own release. His cock throbs inside of you, before you’re filled with warmth, your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him as close as possible a  soft mewl passing your lips as you take in the feeling of being so incredibly full.

 

Together the two of you stay like that for a while, connected, tired, and panting. It’s hard to tell how much time has passed when John finally pulls out of you, rolling onto the bed beside you, his hand finding your own and his fingers linking together with yours. 

 

It’s so innocently intimate after everything else the two of you had just finished doing.

 

He nuzzles his head to your side, beard tickling your collar bone as he lays gentle kisses. He’s completely spent. 

 

John seems so much more relaxed now than he was before. Whatever had bothered him in the beginning completely gone, replaced with a happy loving afterglow. 

 

“Was it good?”

 

He asks, and you can’t help the humored snort that leaves your lips. It was more than good, he should know that. 

 

“You’re a tease.”

 

“You love it.” 

 

John laughs,and you simply roll your eyes. 

 

“No, I love you.”

 

His gaze softens on you, and after pressing a kiss against your forehead he gets up, not bothering to redress. 

 

“I’m going to run us a bath.”

 

You watch him go, your legs still too weak from your orgasms to trust yourself to move, so instead you sit and listen. From the bed you can hear the running of the water, John moving around to get something, likely a bath bomb from beneath the bathroom sink.

 

Finally you swing your legs over the side of the bed, testing your ability to stand on them. A bit shaky, but ultimately you’re able. Lucky considering the last time John had gotten into one of these moods, you hadn’t been able to walk straight for a week.

 

As you make your way down the hall to the bathroom you feel the familiar sensation of cum running down your thighs, and give a soft, annoyed groan. At least you were on your way to take a bath. 

 

John meets you at the door to the bathroom, frowning when he sees you up. 

 

“I was going to carry you.” 

 

You laugh softly, shaking your head. 

 

“I don’t need you to carry me.”

 

He goes as far as to actually pout, but moves out of the way confirming your suspicions. The tub is filled and a soft scent is coming from the colored water. Your reflection in the bathroom mirror greets you. You take in your disheveled appearance, hair a mess, face flush, and a series of hickeys and bruises trailing from your neck to your chest. 

 

You waste no time in sinking into the water, and John joins you, sitting between your legs, leaning his back against your chest. 

 

Relaxing into the warm water, allowing your muscles to unravel and relax. It’s a while before you speak, 

 

“John?”

 

“Hm?”

“I love you.” 

  
After everything it seems almost silly to remind him of this, when he should know, when your actions should already have informed him, but you can’t help it. The nagging feeling of whatever it is that upset John is still lingering, and you want to silence it. 

 

“I know.”

 

“Really, John,” 

 

You hug him from behind, your naked chest pressing to his back, resting your head on his shoulder. If there’s anything more to be said at this point, you aren’t sure, but you still try. Not knowing whether he’ll actually listen or dismiss everything it is you say. 

 

“I’m happy here with you, I really am. I love you. I love being here. I love helping you by taking care of the ranch, and I love being with you.”

 

You pause, feeling John tense beneath you. 

 

“Even if you didn’t,” You pause awkwardly, feeling the heat come to your face. “Do things like today, where you come home and fuck my brains out.”

 

When you finally finish speaking, John relaxes again. 

 

“I love you too.” He finally says. 

 

You can’t help the sigh that leaves your lips, knowing that, whatever it was that upset him today, you wouldn’t find out. Still, there’s something you can do for him now. Pamper him. 

 

It’s no secret to you, or anyone who knows John well enough that he’s loves pampering himself. He loves pampering even more when you’re the one to do it. You wash his hair, and body staying close and cuddling your naked body against his own the whole time. He relaxes against you as you run your fingers soothing through his hair, gently massaging his scalp as you wash away the days events. 

 

He in turn, John returns the attention when it’s your turn, gently cleaning you of the days events and your bedroom time together. 

 

This time though, despite your protests, he wraps you in a towel, and carries you back to the bedroom.  

 

“You know,”

  
You joke back to John. 

 

“We both really suck at this comforting thing, I swear, it’s like, you comfort me, then I wanna comfort you, then you comfort me again.”

 

He smiles softly at you, as he goes to gather your pajamas, once more not wanting you to lift a finger. 

 

“I think that’s just what love is,”

 

There’s a pause as you watch John, once again reflecting on how lucky you are to have such a man in your life,someone who loves you unconditionally, and who you in turn love back when you come to a realization.

 

“John-”

 

You jolt up on the bed.

 

“I left dinner in the oven!”

 

It was easy to be distracted when John came home the way he did, all tense and bothered, wanting to take you then and there, and after the bliss of the lovemaking calmed you still hadn’t remembered. 

 

You grab your pajama pants from John, rushing past him and down the stairs to the ranches kitchen when you’re met with thick clouds of smoke. 

 

Covering your mouth with a hand you make your way into death smiling gas cloud to turn off the stove, relieved to find no actual fire has started, and the remains of a well over cooked lasagna burnt to a crisp in the oven.

 

Opening the windows to let the smoke escape you waste no time in throwing the smoking lasagna onto the ground outside, and going to actually asses the damage to the stove. 

 

John’s laughter is all you hear before the sound of the fire alarm finally deciding to go off and alert the two of you to the forgotten dinner.

 

This has been a lesson for next time, dinner first, comfort sex later.


End file.
